Grit
01-10-2011, 08:09 PM
Erik sat anxiously tapping his bare foot on the cold stone ground. He would have to try soon, before it was too late. When he heard a click, he would spring forward, and drive the piece of broken bowl forward. The piece he had hidden from the guard, the brownish-orange piece he had sharpened for days. It felt light and maneuverable in his hand, an extension.
He opened his eyes; only dark grey light filled the room, coupled with the sound of dripping from the corner.
With a click, the cell door swung open and Erik flew forward, thrusting the sharp piece of rusty metal at the opening. When he felt resistance, he ripped through it. The guard fell to the floor with a thump, and he jumped over the corpse, his feet slapping the floor wetly as he made his escape.
Now Erik sits deep in the forest nearby that prison, hidden by dark ancient oaks, gnarled by the years. He watches as the flames of the fire crack and twist the wood and kindling. He knows that the townspeople will be outraged at his escape, that he managed to avoid justice. They’ll question whether God exists, as they should, when a man takes three beautiful souls from them and escapes his hellish fate. Erik smiles, because these thoughts amuse him. He knows God is no more than an ideal, something to cure the pain of life, a futile hope for the future. He’s known that there is no God for longer than he can remember.
Erik is tired, but he must not sleep, for the fear that an errant person happens across him and recognizes him as a wanted man. He watches the fire for a moment longer, than rises. He examines the trees, finds the mark he made and heads that direction.
He walks through the trees, they blend into one another. The forest feels like infinity, endless and cyclical. Erik breaks into a jog, no time to waste. When light breaks through the trees, marking the end of night and the start of the new day he cries. One day closer to the end.
The forest finally breaks, and Erik steps onto grass, shining in the sun. He walks, the mildew cleansing his filthy toes. The grass meets road a few miles later and Erik gets on it.
Erik walks in the sweltering heat for hours more, the rough road scratches his feet like sandpaper, and he wobbles every few steps. He unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and then stumbles to the left, and falls. He lies in the dirt, unconscious and drying out. Hours pass, the sun ticking through the sky minute by minute.
The sound of hooves approach, a youthful man stops his horse at the sight of Erik, slumped on the side of the road. The man jumps off his mount, and turns Erik over, sees his moving chest and spins the cap off his water skin. He pour water onto Erik’s dusty, cracked lips and into his body. Erik remains sleeping. The stranger stands, clasps his hands together, closes his eyes and whispers frantically, his face breaking with emotion. He then tosses Eric onto the back of his horse like a saddlebag, then remounts and rides away quickly.
Erik wakes in a cot, his legs hanging off the side awkwardly. He’s in a small wooden home, with another bed beside the one he sleeps on, a fireplace, a small wooden table and two chairs and some shelves. He sits up easily, feeling revived and fresh. It’s nice to be in a bed after so long on the road. He closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.
He reawakens to the sound of crackling and the smell of cooking meat. He opens his eyes and sees a youthful stranger watching a pheasant cook over the fireplace. He sits up and his host turns towards him.
“Well, you’re finally awake. Had a nice rest I hope.” The stranger says, his wrinkle-free face beaming with a dimpled smile. He has a shaven brown-haired head and faded blue-grey eyes. “Food should be ready in just a few minutes. I’m David.” David stands and walks to the bed where he offers his hand.
Erik takes the stranger’s hand and shakes it, smiling at him. “My name’s Chris, thanks for saving me.”
David shrugs and grins sheepishly, “If I see someone passed out on the side of the road, I’m gunna help them. It’s just the right thing to do.”
David walks to the fire, removes the bird and prepares it. They feast and Erik savors the tender meat, the hearty meal very welcome by his starving body.
After the meal, David pours both men a drink and sits back in a chair, examining Erik closely. His eyes are lined and wrinkled, thick black bags decorate them and his nose appears to have been broken before. He has the body of someone who has missed many meals, bone-thin and wiry.
“What path brought you to be passed out face-down on a rarely-traveled road, far from civilization?” David asks, curiosity getting the best of him.
Erik thinks about killing this man for a moment, but decides against it, strange he feels some resistance to that action this time. Perhaps it is because he is a man. Erik thinks for a moment. “I’m searching for the man who killed my daughter.” He says, very pleased with the irony of his words.
David’s face goes still and he is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry about your loss.” He looks downwards, anguish apparent on his face.
Erik is surprised by his response and wonders what is bothering this stranger. “I sense you have your own dark path.” He says.
David says nothing for a moment and then looks Erik in the eyes. “What about your wife?” He asks intensely. “Surely God would prefer you console her in her sufferings.”
Erik thinks quickly, “She was taken with grief. Decided dying would be easier than living on without her sweet daughter. The bastard who took my daughter, took my wife with her and I will make sure he meet the appropriate fate.”
David is silent for a moment, “God will ensure that your mission is successful, although he doesn’t always help in the way you’d expect.” Another pause.
“It is apparent something is on your mind.” Erik says, watching David’s facial expression closely, one of deep sadness.
David’s eyes are drawn to the table, then her forces them away. On the table is a picture, looks like a portrait. David clears his throat, “My wife went to the nearby town not long ago, to buy some threads so she could weave some things to sell, get a little extra money. That was over a month ago, and I’ve received no word. I’m very worried.” David’s eyes cloud with tears and he looks away, as does Erik, hard to watch a grown man cry.
A few minutes pass in silence and David composes himself. “You are a good man Erik, you will find your demon, and destroy it and my wife will return God willing. I must retire for the night now, but I’ll speak to you on the morning.” David stands from his chair, blows out the hanging lanterns and quickly falls asleep, his snores filling the small home.
Erik stands quietly, once he has tested the truth of David’s slumber by calling his name aloud several times and walks to the table. He picks up the picture, framed with gilded golden wood. It’s a beautiful young woman, the same age as David, with dark red curls framing a heart-shaped face and warm smile. Erik is sure that David is lying about what has happened, he lacks the blind hope of a man with a missing wife. His pain is too real, too deep, so sure of his despair.
Erik walks back to his bed and lies, he isn’t sure what the truth is but he would find out.
He opened his eyes; only dark grey light filled the room, coupled with the sound of dripping from the corner.
With a click, the cell door swung open and Erik flew forward, thrusting the sharp piece of rusty metal at the opening. When he felt resistance, he ripped through it. The guard fell to the floor with a thump, and he jumped over the corpse, his feet slapping the floor wetly as he made his escape.
Now Erik sits deep in the forest nearby that prison, hidden by dark ancient oaks, gnarled by the years. He watches as the flames of the fire crack and twist the wood and kindling. He knows that the townspeople will be outraged at his escape, that he managed to avoid justice. They’ll question whether God exists, as they should, when a man takes three beautiful souls from them and escapes his hellish fate. Erik smiles, because these thoughts amuse him. He knows God is no more than an ideal, something to cure the pain of life, a futile hope for the future. He’s known that there is no God for longer than he can remember.
Erik is tired, but he must not sleep, for the fear that an errant person happens across him and recognizes him as a wanted man. He watches the fire for a moment longer, than rises. He examines the trees, finds the mark he made and heads that direction.
He walks through the trees, they blend into one another. The forest feels like infinity, endless and cyclical. Erik breaks into a jog, no time to waste. When light breaks through the trees, marking the end of night and the start of the new day he cries. One day closer to the end.
The forest finally breaks, and Erik steps onto grass, shining in the sun. He walks, the mildew cleansing his filthy toes. The grass meets road a few miles later and Erik gets on it.
Erik walks in the sweltering heat for hours more, the rough road scratches his feet like sandpaper, and he wobbles every few steps. He unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and then stumbles to the left, and falls. He lies in the dirt, unconscious and drying out. Hours pass, the sun ticking through the sky minute by minute.
The sound of hooves approach, a youthful man stops his horse at the sight of Erik, slumped on the side of the road. The man jumps off his mount, and turns Erik over, sees his moving chest and spins the cap off his water skin. He pour water onto Erik’s dusty, cracked lips and into his body. Erik remains sleeping. The stranger stands, clasps his hands together, closes his eyes and whispers frantically, his face breaking with emotion. He then tosses Eric onto the back of his horse like a saddlebag, then remounts and rides away quickly.
Erik wakes in a cot, his legs hanging off the side awkwardly. He’s in a small wooden home, with another bed beside the one he sleeps on, a fireplace, a small wooden table and two chairs and some shelves. He sits up easily, feeling revived and fresh. It’s nice to be in a bed after so long on the road. He closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.
He reawakens to the sound of crackling and the smell of cooking meat. He opens his eyes and sees a youthful stranger watching a pheasant cook over the fireplace. He sits up and his host turns towards him.
“Well, you’re finally awake. Had a nice rest I hope.” The stranger says, his wrinkle-free face beaming with a dimpled smile. He has a shaven brown-haired head and faded blue-grey eyes. “Food should be ready in just a few minutes. I’m David.” David stands and walks to the bed where he offers his hand.
Erik takes the stranger’s hand and shakes it, smiling at him. “My name’s Chris, thanks for saving me.”
David shrugs and grins sheepishly, “If I see someone passed out on the side of the road, I’m gunna help them. It’s just the right thing to do.”
David walks to the fire, removes the bird and prepares it. They feast and Erik savors the tender meat, the hearty meal very welcome by his starving body.
After the meal, David pours both men a drink and sits back in a chair, examining Erik closely. His eyes are lined and wrinkled, thick black bags decorate them and his nose appears to have been broken before. He has the body of someone who has missed many meals, bone-thin and wiry.
“What path brought you to be passed out face-down on a rarely-traveled road, far from civilization?” David asks, curiosity getting the best of him.
Erik thinks about killing this man for a moment, but decides against it, strange he feels some resistance to that action this time. Perhaps it is because he is a man. Erik thinks for a moment. “I’m searching for the man who killed my daughter.” He says, very pleased with the irony of his words.
David’s face goes still and he is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry about your loss.” He looks downwards, anguish apparent on his face.
Erik is surprised by his response and wonders what is bothering this stranger. “I sense you have your own dark path.” He says.
David says nothing for a moment and then looks Erik in the eyes. “What about your wife?” He asks intensely. “Surely God would prefer you console her in her sufferings.”
Erik thinks quickly, “She was taken with grief. Decided dying would be easier than living on without her sweet daughter. The bastard who took my daughter, took my wife with her and I will make sure he meet the appropriate fate.”
David is silent for a moment, “God will ensure that your mission is successful, although he doesn’t always help in the way you’d expect.” Another pause.
“It is apparent something is on your mind.” Erik says, watching David’s facial expression closely, one of deep sadness.
David’s eyes are drawn to the table, then her forces them away. On the table is a picture, looks like a portrait. David clears his throat, “My wife went to the nearby town not long ago, to buy some threads so she could weave some things to sell, get a little extra money. That was over a month ago, and I’ve received no word. I’m very worried.” David’s eyes cloud with tears and he looks away, as does Erik, hard to watch a grown man cry.
A few minutes pass in silence and David composes himself. “You are a good man Erik, you will find your demon, and destroy it and my wife will return God willing. I must retire for the night now, but I’ll speak to you on the morning.” David stands from his chair, blows out the hanging lanterns and quickly falls asleep, his snores filling the small home.
Erik stands quietly, once he has tested the truth of David’s slumber by calling his name aloud several times and walks to the table. He picks up the picture, framed with gilded golden wood. It’s a beautiful young woman, the same age as David, with dark red curls framing a heart-shaped face and warm smile. Erik is sure that David is lying about what has happened, he lacks the blind hope of a man with a missing wife. His pain is too real, too deep, so sure of his despair.
Erik walks back to his bed and lies, he isn’t sure what the truth is but he would find out.